WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
NUMDWATATES
NOTE H1
8:19
POST
MERIDIAN
SUNDAY
EVENING
1
SEPTEMBER, 2019
FORT
PIERCE, FLORIDA, USA, ESMWG
Mark
Wayne Mountainpen Huntington Mohr
©
2006-2019, 'BOM' (Blogs
Of Mountainpen)
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Mohr,
Mark W., 1954-
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PAu000501582
|
1983
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Mountainpen's
LUNAR PHASING CYCLE CHART:
September
1, 2019
CURRENT
PHASE IS: WAXING CRESCENT 2:5
N.M.
WXC1 WXC2 WXC3 WXC4 WXC5 F.Q.
WXG1
WXG2 WXG3 WXG4 WXG5 WXG6
WXG7
F.M. WNG1 WNG2 WNG3 WNG4 WNG5
WNG6
WNG7 L.Q. WNC1 WNC2 WNC3 WNC4
WNC5
WNC6 N.M.
Well
folks-peeps, I have a fucking currently
gigantic and monstrous “meow-meow-meow-meow-meow”
HURRICANE, barreling in from Bermuda at
me, here at my Fort Pierce, Florida apartment. By tomorrow it
will be effecting my town and me, in several possible ways, from
horrendous on steroids to perhaps in a best case scenario, a major
inconvenience and annoyance. This is of course
totally dependent on its projected pathway or track as the
weather-peeps call it. If it goes as
projected at dead center track,
the second scenario would be the case.
Should it veer and steer into the east at maximum projected track,
this would mean that a slow moving major category-5 storm will be
right on top of me, while I shudder in this old
early seventies built public housing building, up here on the sixth
floor, second floor from the top. Should a worse case scenario
happen, as stated on an earlier blog; I AM
'ADDAHELE', to quote the great baseball announcer and
legend, Sir Harry Callas!!!!!!!! If I
sustain heavy damage and loss, I WILL KISS THIS
MISERABLE ROTTEN STATE OF FLORIDA GOOD-BYE FOREVER, and yes,
something that I now know fully well, that I
should have done somewhere between five
and eight years ago, but was too
cowardly to do. Now it will only be quantitatively
worse, since I am nearly sixty-five years old, and to run away AGAIN,
with basicly just the cunt lapping clothes on my back, some meds,
some clothes, important paper docks, and some other small items that
would fit into garbage bags that can be tossed into a car; would be
just about the absolute quintessentially worse possible eventuality
for poor old, sick, pathetic, puny, and eternally
luck-cursed MOUNTAINPEN, YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO
YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO YO!!!!
The
rain bands from this wild 'monster
ass' storm, if I am allowed to
quote something that I heard my son in law speak, back a decade ago,
when referring to my cassette tape recordings, from a parallel
universe or (something spoken by him to me in
a wild and powerfully vivid dream-nightmare); have begun to
hit my area off and on, since early middle afternoon today. As I
speak-type right now, I am getting another one.
No huge winds yet, just quick bursts of quite torrential rain
striking my three studio apartment windows facing the north northwest
up here on this sixth floor, one of the highest
points in this county except for the relatively
newly build Federal Courthouse at Orange Avenue and Federal Highway
US-1, and the large condo and apartment
hi-rise structures of North-Hutchinson Island that are visible
from my window, well beyond the Causeway Bridge South, that leads off
of US-1, and into the Southern Hutchinson Island. So I suppose if the
mighty and quite grand Sir Chester-Frank won't mind or object to much
to me saying his great quotation right about fucking now, yo folks,
then 'permit
me' to do just that,
Latengrate 'Uncle' Heinz Gottwald,
formerly of 175 Peninsula Drive, in good old illustrious and
wonderful BABY BLOND, NEW YORK, AKA babble on or just (BABYLON)!!!!
Oh yes folks and wonderful AAT-BLOGAUDIANS out here as well as Mister
HC 'OUDDDDDDDAHELE', from my previous blog, indeed there are three
horrible monstrous underlined groupation of words that weelwee
weelwee weelwee do indeed go perfectly together, like me and Jersey,
huh, great ex-Guv of Jersey, Sir Honorable Thomas Kane, and these
3 would BEEEEEEE:
HURRICANE
DORIAN
Mizz
DAWN-MARIE KING
HUNTINGTON-CURSE!
As
for the Camden, New Jersey Mac-Andrews & Forbes electrician from
1980, yes the ultimate witch is also another three combined
reality-item, unless we add in the great sixties and seventies folk
singer, Mizz lovely Melanie Safka, but with her excluded from the
minx, then we're left with the other three, that good old magical
three, as in who will be the soon to follow Hollywood star to wake up
back in the great Purgatory soon, since we just had another two, and
they always follow in THREES, and we all know this is a true fact of
life. Thisssssssssssssss groupation; Mister Spellchecker Mike Soft,
and Mizz AMC SLEK, are as follows:
PATRICIA
HOLLISTER
PAULA
KING-------------Pau000501582
PAULA
UWICH
YES,
YES, YES, YESSSSSSSSSSSSS FOLKS,
Since
the near future is totally uncertain
as to whether or not I will be leaving
Florida
forever, after nearly ten years here, and is dependent on how
much if any significant damage is done to my dwelling with the
approaching HURRICANE DORIAN; I
feel quite compelled to tell you all a story about Mizz
DAWN-MARIE KING, as it relates to me the Mountainpen, and
my family curse, sometimes refered to me on these 'BOM' blogs, as
the HUNTINGTON-CURSE! Dawn
changed completely once she had me in her grip, and living with her
and her illegal hubby Chicky from Guatemala, and her mom, Mizz Ann
King Silva, of Atlantic City,
New Jersey, USAESMWG.
BOY
OH BOY OH BOY, UNCLE BILLY, YO:
Paula
Uwich told me in September of 1996, 23 years fucking ago, that “I
would never forget this day, the day that I first talked to her”.
WOW lovely wonderful Oprah, was she correct 1000%%%%%%%%%%%%!!!!!!!
Life
totally sucks for me. I know that everybody is suffering in my part
of Florida, with the worry and anxiety of this mighty fucking Krassle
Storm (Atlantic), BUTButButButButBUTTTTTTTTTTTT, and but, I know that
the reason for this entire mess is one gigantic resounding truth, and
that being, Mountainpen is in ETERNAL DOGTOWN, and yes Mike Soft,
this DOGTOWNITE knows fully well, that this indeed is DOGTOWN ON
EARTH for him, yo BRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! These mother
fucking constant (`~HACKS) are 'driving
me right up a fucking wall',
Mizz (Before Inchcape Shipping) Lavino Shipping Company of
Philadelphia during WWll, Nancy Logan! I only wish that I could
forget all the minute fucking details of my miserable eternal
nightmare hellish on steroids life, BRO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Like WO, Billy Harner if you will
let me quote you from the late end of the nineteen-nineties, yo, bud?
Fucking
witchbitch Mizz Sleazeweedsdisease just
nailed me with that cock sucking fucking mouse-screen-page
prompt, that displays at my right screen while
on page eleven of eleven many times should I be dumb enough to
move the fucking cock knocking dumb-ass thing, during that exact
stage of blogging for 'whatever' reason,
Congressman RA, and not
Apollo-Lucifer---RA, the
great 'morning star' made mention of, in the great and
illustrious KJV of the Holy Scriptures
(KJV-BIBLE). Yes our wonderful son up there in the sky. It
sure beats a monster fucking hurricane, and I'll be the first bastard
up at the gate to yell that out, with a clit huffing bullhorn, at
light speed cubed and Cuban! 'Still', Lenny Brisco sir, allow me now
to print some nice five number rows, to
cunt phlegm rape for the assault of Mizz 1993 Atlanta, Georgia,
Ballpark, just now perpetrated upon me on this cum-puke-her, yo
yo yo yo yo yo yo yo yo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
5555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555555
CAP-CAP-CAP-NON
CAPTAIN, AND NON HILE HHH!!!!
GUESS
THE NAME OF THE GUESTS, CHAPTER 106
HACKED—106-107-108-A-B-C,
AND NO MJ-123, please!!!!
Same
old same old. What else is new? Same shit, different
day. This can also be stated as SOSO-WEIN-SSDD!
Same
old same old. What else is new? Same shit, different
day. This can also be stated as SOSO-WEIN-SSDD!
Same
old same old. What else is new? Same shit, different
day. This can also be stated as SOSO-WEIN-SSDD!
Same
old same old. What else is new? Same shit, different
day. This can also be stated as SOSO-WEIN-SSDD!
When
you are dealing with powers that can take away your world, your
friends, your possessions, even your health, and get scott free away
with it, Scotland Yard Wirtz of 1989-1990' well sir; as my song
lyrics from 1969 go, “what can I say”?
Yes, what can I say”? Yes folks, the great 1969 song that I wrote
at age fourteen and a half years of age, shortly after that wild
Atlantic City encounter with [[[[{{{((*LOVELY PATTY HHH*))}}}]]]],
things
like this simply put, kind Sheriff Ken Mascara sir, JUST CANNOT BE
MADE UP.
This is too fucking ass fantastic for any great mind, or even
collaborations of great talented minds, such as the (OTHER
NON-HARRAH CASINO SJK HOLLYWOOD GROUPation), 'SJK', as in Spielberg,
Geffen, and King.
The Geffen character pronounces his surname as JEFF-EN. WOW-THIS;
O.W. Oh YESSSSSSSSSSSS; the great song, “BURN
WITH FIRE”,
and the super great Musical Arranger, Mister Tom Glenn, who went onto
do numerous other fantastic musical type of projects, with really
important peeps such as the wonderful National Football League (NFL),
and many more also; told me in 1981, and I quote this fantastic human
being, who is and was convinced of my homosexuality, A TOTALLY UNTRUE
DEAL, BUT PEEPS ALL SEEM TO HAVE THEIR OWN OPINIONS, AND THEY ARE
QUITE DAMN ASS ENTITLED TO THEM, YO; as Mashell Daniels would say
back in 1980 at the wonderful RPL SOUND STUDIO LABS at 1100 State
Street, and 1558 Pierce Avenue, in Camden, New Jersey, USA, ESMWG;
yes this great dude Mister Tom Glenn said to me over the phone
shortly after he had helped me do my LOIS-FOCA song with his guitar
arrangement that the Copyright Office has to this very day, and I
quote his words here quite absolutely verbatim, “It's overdue time
for another FIRE song”. Yes my “BURN WITH FIRE” song from 1969
was of course after the great band had THEIR FIRE SONG, come on baby,
light my fire, and so forth, but nobody has a copyright on the idea
of fire in a song, yo. I learned through the years that it is not
that difficult to make ever so slight alterations in any song, and
that small change allows a writer to fully copyright a new song. If
it is legally challenged, as with all things pertaining to the law at
least here in good old great America, Cuzz Don, the almighty fucking
dollar determines how great anyone has a chance to win a case. Money
and nothing else, BUYS GREAT
LAWERING, and the lack
of money buys not
so good lawering,
and that's
that, Mister Esolph.
So if I am even close to another song that has powerful people who
own the rights to it, I would be in deep trouble. But other powerful
peeps can make the smallest alterations and have done so, in many of
my songs throughout the past four plus decades now, and get totally
scott free away with it, without ever having to pay me a single dime
out of the many many millions of fuckign bucks that they make in
royalties, Hey, as Ziggy Malyeska said in 1969, and speaking of good
old fucking 1969, “That's the way it goes”!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
WEEEEEEEEEE and WOW!!!!
“BURN
WITH FIRE” ©
1969-1981
(VERSE-1)
I'm
saying this to you boy
You
bring me thrill and joy
When
you just touch me What can I say
I
want you real bad
You make me so glad
Just
you and me boy
Please
baby stay
The
things you do to me
Beyond
my fantasy
The
way you hold me tight
Let's
keep it hot tonight
Don't
let it ever end
Oh
baby let's pretend
Just
say you love me
Make
me feel all right
(CHORUS)
You
make me burn with fire like a soul in hell
You
bring me more desire than I could ever tell
(No
Microsoft, NAUT TELLOSIANS)
I'm
gonna' love you baby 'till the end of time
Come on little baby,
gonna' make you mine
You
make me burn with fire, burn with fire, burn with fire, burn with
fire
Bring
me such desire such desire, make me burn make me burn make me burn
with fire
WRITTEN
BY MARK WAYNE M. H. MOHR
The
second verse after the chorus was not written in 1969 but in 1981,
right shy of the time that I had that talk with that great Musical
Arranger, Mister Tom Glenn,
while I was residing at where else, but good old freaking 1802
Robin Hill Apartments,
in Voorhees Township, New Jersey, with absolutely NO
TOBYCOUCHES
anywhere. So I will not type out the second verse of the song, since
1969 is what I am talking about right now.
This
was written for a female vocalist to sing,
but good old Mister Glenn was just convinced for absolutely no reason
whatsoever that pertained to logic, that my writing those words made
me a stone cold fucking fagot,
and in those times
and days,
that was a big black spot against
anyone, as if I would
have needed
another one on top of the already zillion plus of them that
surrounded me already for crissake,
yo! It wasn't enough that Patty had me so fucked up in 1969, that I
ended up getting evicted out of the apartment at 125-A Haddon Hills
in Westmont (Haddon Township),
New Jersey,USA, ESMWG. No sympathy at all ever, for good old pathetic
fucking diseased shithead MountAINPEN, huh world, huh Dorian, huh
wonderful awesome Jehovah Goddess (SARAH-STACEY JEHOVAH KARGE
KRASSLE)???????????????? And you say to me, I don't have the right to
say the following two mother fucking things, yo? 1) LIFE SUCKS AND
STINKS, and 2) I AM IN ETERNAL FUCKING HELL, YO! Hey man, I think the
expression here that would be totally adequate as well as completely
apropos, is “KMA”!!!!!!!!!!!!! WOW-THIS!!!!!!!!
I
don't care about the frapping stinking stock market. It can crash to
300 or go up to 130,300 for all I care, IF THIS
POST AUGUST 1986 NIGHTMARE SHIT against me is halted. I care
only that I am being forever mercilessly assaulted to my grave, and
who the hell wouldn't feel this way?
MARCH
18, 2014,
MONDAY
EVENING AT 5:55,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
1969----1969----1969----1969
It
was all during this wild fantastic time
in my past, as a youth and adolescent; Sheriff KJM kind sir, that I
had my unexplainable interactions with this GODDESS-FAWCE in Atlantic
City, as well as in
my Dellway Arms Apartment in Oaklyn, in New Jersey. And
thisssssssssssssss will indeed be the discussion with lots of
powerful and brand new dogshit connected into and throughout this
entire messy pile of stench puke from Dogtown squared, provided this
computer and these blogs survive beyond the coming week, and is all
contingent of course on lovely sweet adorable HURRICANE
DURIAN non-Himacane
Eddie Lynch!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! For now, I will be 'CHAINED' to my
TV-set, and other media sources. Thank you for keeping me updated
with your great county calls, Sheriff and friends. I will be
answering and listening, right up and until DIANA no longer is
coursing through the wires and into my residence, (electricity).
As
some know, my cousin began running for top dog job last June, and
this is when my assault on me began to take wings and fly. I will be
dead and gone very mother fucking shortly, and he will be the
destroying last trump and antichrist after this poor mark of the
beast is gone. But remember, this great super man really believed
that I had gone back from 2009, 23 years physically, and took my
daughter up to the future and to his Plaza Casino. Then he had his
friends who indeed do travel as Briggbase Cultist-Type 3 exploratrons
do so well, and went back to 1984 and wiped me out with not only
Mister Jerry Texaco but many others as well. Only he and I know this
story is all true and real. If he can do and will do all of this to
one innocent frail little person, just what do you think he will do
to this planet, as for shit eating heavens sake, it's all right in
the god dam fucking scriptures!
Never
ever be fooled by anything. Nothing ever
has to make sense. Many peeps tell me
they would believe in the ESS and my claims and tales, if
not for most dreams being nothing but weird random distortions of
stuff, and thus my idea of parallel universes being
interdimensionalized through our dreaming, is just me trying to force
jigsaw pieces into places where they don't truly fit. Folks, let me
quickly allay your troubled minds about things such as this. If you
think ordinary dreaming and dreamers are able to cross parallel
worlds and not be struck by all kinds of weird and stupid
distortions; then I am begging you to think about the very notion
rationally, for a moment or so. Try to plan a 1000 mile road trip and
see if things don't go all ape cracker crap on you, and that is just
moving around in your own true waking world. When you cross between
worlds, you will indeed get a mostly jumbled up experience and yes, a
pizza oven may turn into a car and your wife's face may suddenly
become the TV-set. Many things make some sense, no sense, and all the
in-between amounts of sense as well. The waking world and what we all
appear to be in it is like one part of a pie and all of the other
places and doubles of us are the other part. This pie is not divvied
up in some 50-50 share however. Every time we sleep and dream, this
alters as our brain or sixth dimensional signals that connect to a
physical mental producing instrument, are altering. Still and all,
the waking piece of this pie while we live and breathe is sort of a
controller. Think of it as a base that then only allows you to visit
parallel worlds that have some sort of a similar thread of evental
time that matches the signal of brain that appears to go from
conscious to subconscious, also said, from being awake to being
asleep. We don't normally control our dreaming-trips into hyperspace
, in other words. Those who do this with great frequency are what
Morianity calls, TYPE-3-EXPLORATRONS.
When we merely are experiencing nocturnal dreaming, or it can be any
time now that we are a society of round the clock jobs and work
shifts; we are TYPE-1-EXPLORATRONS.
Those who go to sleep and know for a fact that what Morianity teaches
on this subject is absolutely real and true, even if they do not
practice this with any regularity, or anyone who suddenly even begins
to become in any way cognizant to this truth while experiencing their
dreaming, are TYPE-2-EXPLORATRONS.
This is Morianity's scale of rating the phenomenon. But when I
discuss with you this base of some true us, it is merely a relative
truth. Every universe has real tangible material people in it and we
to them, are the shadows and the dream substance of their worlds.
Still and all, it appears as anywhere we are physical and materially
tangible and caporial, we indeed are the base of our selves, and only
become interconnected through and via dreaming, into worlds that
begin to thread up with our waking weaves, so to speak. Just as our
thoughts and our lives as we leave the life of babyhood and move
onward, seem to be connected into one reality, so also in the next
higher dimensionality do likewise, or in other words, our waking
lives and our dreaming lives. All of the places that we visit, and
remember the strongest, connect the most closer related things to us
here in waking life. Now those experts who study the mind and the
profession of psychiatry of course, will vehemently disagree with
Morianity and consider it to be a product of delusion and numerous
psychotic features as well. That is their right, as is mine to know
better, and to tell these truths to an open public, whoever they may
be. Most don't believe a word of this, or a word about how I created
out of nowhere, through a very magical set of tape recorders and
secret wisdom, in the seventies, the very character that we all have
come to know, and like no other anywhere on the planet, Mister DJT. I
told how Prosecutor ADA Jim Wilson and Donna Spinosi, were so mean
and horrendous to my mother and myself, and of course, in the pockets
of the mister wealthies. And I told from the very beginning of these
blogs over a decade back now, how parallel event is used by him,
against me, and this has been going on ever since I showed his Castle
Casino boys just exactly what I was doing with parallel event playing
roulette, after I was asked to show them what it was all about, and I
had nothing to hide and indeed showed them. While
I was typing this out, another illegal telephone caller -ID assault
struck me at about twenty minutes shy of eleven on this fucking cunt
ass Monday morning, 22 February, 2016, where my own name and number
display while the phone rings. Naturally, I won't pick up the phone
and Trump and his pals can all burn in mother fucking DOGTOWN!!!!
END
TRANsdimensional & END TRANSMISSION, YO!!!!
END
TRANsdimensional & END TRANSMISSION, YO!!!!
END
TRANsdimensional & END TRANSMISSION, YO!!!!
END
TRANsdimensional & END TRANSMISSION, YO!!!!
END
TRANsdimensional & END TRANSMISSION, YO!!!!
END
TRANsdimensional & END TRANSMISSION, YO!!!!
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